


Blue blazes

by Petra



Category: Ashes to Ashes
Genre: F/M, Temperature Play, kink bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-05
Updated: 2010-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is far too hot in Jim's office no matter what the temperature is outside. (no spoilers)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue blazes

**Author's Note:**

> Sensation play (temperature play) for Kink Bingo. For [](http://thatyourefuse.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**thatyourefuse**](http://thatyourefuse.dreamwidth.org/), as these things tend to be.

  
It is far too hot in Jim's office no matter what the temperature is outside. He has space heaters, he has the door shut nearly all the time, and there's no air movement at all. It's like an oven in there.

It only gets worse when there is air movement, such as when one is bent over his desk, late at night, trying not to put one's hands on any of his files or knock anything off. Alex knows this from experience, and she knows exactly how sweaty it can be trying to do anything but sit perfectly still and talk to him.

Touching him is its own problem; he says he has poor circulation, but he feels as warm as anyone else to her, even his hands cupping her breasts.

Not an arse man, Jim; that's a change. If Alex is hallucinating him, too, at least she's come up with an almost entirely different set of traits from the ones she's given Gene. No, he likes her breasts as well as any man she's ever met, and his fingers are practically hot on her nipples, his breath damp and warm on the back of her neck.

They could be anywhere, doing this, if they'd had the cumulative willpower to leave before they went for each other, dizzying kisses instead of the talk they were supposed to have. They should be working through their suspicions, not working down her knickers, not easing open his trousers.

Alex could be stark naked in this room and still sweating. The first push of his cock is like a brand--poor circulation her presently underappreciated arse--and she covers her mouth so as not to shout. Someone could be about, after all, even after supper time. God knows she's slunk back in to catch up or get ahead and found Gene in his office at every hour of the night, one time or another.

This is not that office; there is no window in the door, let alone the walls. Jim's teeth on her shoulder, sliding in her sweat, make her groan, and she doesn't have to be perfectly silent for fear of someone in CID looking up from paperwork.

She does try to keep her balance, though, as she spreads her legs and pushes back. "God, don't mess about," she says.

Jim pets her nipples and thrusts into her with a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh. "I didn't think we had been."

"Just--" she shakes her head. The longer this goes on, the more time she'll have to think about it, and she's not drunk enough for full cognitive anesthesia to set in. This is nothing to think about, only something to do. "I want you," Alex says. "I want this--I--nn--"

He's a polite enough bastard; despite that breast fixation he's got his fingers on her clit already, not teasing, following that one order to keep things quick. Every time his body presses against hers, it's too warm, smothering hot for a moment before he rocks his hips back, then in again. She's going to catch fire if it goes on like this.

Or her nerves will, in the best way, between the fucking and the stroking. Alex lets her head hang down, trying to get a breath of air that's not boiling hot, but there's no air in this room. There's just Jim, slick as ice with his own sweat and so warm under it Alex wonders if all the heat's gone into him or coming from him.

The thought makes her laugh, and he doesn't know her half well enough to take that in good spirits, not when they're at this. "What's funny?" he asks, his tone mild.

Alex can't tell him she thinks he's his own space heater. That makes no sense. "A silly thought, that's all."

"I don't want you to be able to think right now," he says, and bites her ear.

That goes a good way toward accomplishing that goal, along with a little more speed, a little more friction. Alex whimpers and arches back against the blistering warmth of his body, thinking in one clear moment that she should let people bend her over desks more often before orgasm hits and she can only think hot, hotter, hottest.

Jim groans and buries his face in her neck, clutching too hard at her breast, holding her still with an arm round her waist--so close, so smothering, like being under blankets next to a roaring fire--for a few more strokes before he comes.

It's awkward after that, getting her clothes back on over her wet skin--sweat on top, other things below. One tuck, one zip, and Jim looks like he has been sitting at his desk all night. Perhaps that's because he does this sort of thing all the time, or perhaps he simply cleans up quickly. Alex says, "I should go," and kisses him.

Jim cups her cheek with searing hot fingers that smell of her. "I'd tell you to stay, but this isn't really my home, is it?"

Alex smiles. "Some other time," she promises, and opens the door. The cool air of the hallway feels like January.


End file.
